Reflex
by BlackHowling77
Summary: The confrontation after Han’s death isn’t quite that harmless. Tokyo Drift: SeanxNeela OneShot


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**Reflex**

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Sean's reach towards the doorbell is cut short by the hum of an engine.

He turns to his left, looks past Neela's shoulder and is assaulted with the headlights of a car. Though he can't see, he knows who it is. He'd recognize the hum anywhere. He locks his jaw and Neela shifts on her feet. He knows she's scared. He also knows she has good reason to be.

The all too familiar grey Nissan 350 Z screeches to a halt. Takashi rips open his door, the handgun he had pulled on Han earlier still clutched in his right hand. Just the sight of the punk playing Yakuza makes Sean's blood boil.

Takashi killed Han and he thinks an eye for an eye is a damn good trade.

As soon as Takashi takes a step towards him, something in Sean snaps. He suddenly doesn't care about the gun. He doesn't care that Takashi is nephew to Yakuza Kamata. All he cares about is revenge and how sweet it's going to feel when he gets it.

He matches Takashi's dangerous stride with his own and the two are on a one way path towards each other. Sean can feel the anger coursing through his veins and he clenches his fists, ready to fight. Ready for destruction.

Neela cuts in, taking a stride past him and towards her ex-boyfriend.

"Takashi!" She says firmly.

But nothing she can do can stop this, Sean figures. The cards have already been played and fate would unravel before them. Whether the three want it to, or not.

Takashi glances briefly to her, still striding forward. "Get in the car," he orders in Japanese. He's distracted for a split second, and that's when Sean strikes.

He grabs the Yakuza wannabe and shoves him back onto the hood of the Nissan. Pulling back his right fist, he sends it forward until it smashes into Takashi's face. Sean does it again, and again, letting the anger and rage fuel his attacks.

On the forth strike, Takashi blocks. Sean tries to force his fist forward, but Takashi is stronger. He head butts Sean and shoves him backwards towards the ground, raising his gun in the process.

Sean looks up, watches Takashi cock is head slightly to the left, his jaw clenched in rage. "Goodbye, _gaijin_."

After that, nothing is in slow motion. It's quite the opposite really.

Movement catches the corner of Sean's eye and he knows what's happening. He knows and he still can't do anything but get halfway off the ground.

It's Neela.

She steps in front so fast; he doesn't even think Takashi can register what's going on through his anger because the ex-Drift King pulls the trigger anyways. If and when he looks back on this moment, Sean will wonder if Takashi realizing Neela's movements would have made much of a difference. Probably not. Takashi has a nasty temper, something even Neela could never control.

"_NO!_" Sean bellows in agony, a split second before the gun barks once and Neela's body jerks. The impact sends her crashing backwards into him and they both collapse to the pavement.

"Neela! Neela?" Sean searches her face, her bulging eyes and gritted teeth. He touches her cheek softly and her eyes blink to him. He knows she can see the panic in his face because she tries to flash him a comforting smile. It's half-assed and weak. He hears her chock on a whimper and the noise breaks his heart. She arches slightly against him and that's when he sees it.

The red stain over her abdomen is growing fast.

He moves his hand over her stomach and presses down, trying to hold her still as she bucks hard against him. The liquid is warm against his palm. Sticky. Unreal. He locks his jaw tightly and snaps his head up towards Takashi.

"You bastard!" he snarls, his accent flowing thickly through the words. "If she dies, I'll kill you! You hear me? I'll kill you!"

Takashi doesn't seem to register his threats. The gun in his hand is not shaking uncontrollably like it should be. There is no sympathy in the dark eyes. Takashi seems relaxed, almost calm and he takes a step forward. Sean snarls and Takashi blinks, his face draining of emotion.

He raises the gun again, eyes void and dull.

Sean feels Neela stiffen against him. "Takashi…" she whispers. "Stop it."

Takashi hesitates long enough for Sean to register a muffled yelling. Seconds later, his father bursts from the small apartment to their right, a black handgun in his hand.

"Sean!" The older man yells, looking around.

Takashi's in motion towards his car before Major Boswell can even register why his son is on the ground with a girl in his arms. Then he sees the blood and snaps into action. He whips sideways and starts unloading towards the grey Nissan peeling away. His gun clicks six shots later and he curses under his breath.

"Dad!" Sean yells and he watches as his father tares his eyes away from the fleeting car. He sees the confusion flash across his father's face but doesn't have the time to explain. "Dad, help me with her!"

Jason Boswell is besides his son in seconds, processing the situation. He see the blood seeping from behind his sons hand and looks to the wound. There's no exit, which means the bullet is still inside.

"What do we do?" Sean asks quickly, panicked. There is no answer from his father. "What do we do!"

His father examines Neela. "It's bad. I need something to get the bleeding under control, your hands doing nothing."

"…Sean..." Neela pants.

"You're gonna be alright," Sean reassures. "Just hold on."

She's looking up at him, but he's not sure if she really sees him. Her gaze is distant, eyes unfocused. He panics slightly, feeling like a little kid whose parents are abandoning him to the darkness of his room. "Stay awake, okay? You have to stay awake. You can do this. Just stay with my, Neela."

"We need to get her to a hospital," his father says, breaking through the panic.

"No." Neela's grip tightens around Sean's hand.

"Do you have a death wish?" Jason Boswell puts and firm edge to his voice, knowing full well that the girl's delusional from blood loss. "We need to get you to a hospital—now."

She shakes her head and takes a shattered breath. "No." she repeats weakly.

"Neela, please…" Sean begs softly.

"We go to a hospital…they're going…" she pauses to take in a couple of deep, painful breaths, "…to ask questions…all gunshot wounds get processed…and if you tell them Takashi did this….Yakuza will be all over you." She stops and shakes her head firmly. "No hospitals."

"But—"

"I said…no, Sean."

He looks at her, takes in her clammy skin and hazy eyes. "Neela, you can do this, okay?" He says firmly, more to reassure himself than her.

She looks into his eyes. "If it doesn't work out," she says finally, "It's not your fault. You can't fix everything."

Sean grits his teeth and looks to the wound again. "We need to get something to stop this, then."

"Get her inside," his father jumps to his feet, leading the way.

Sean nods and lifts with his legs, Neela latching one of her hands onto his shoulder in a vice like grip. He tries to walk smoothly, but he can hear and see her grit her teeth with each bounce. His father leads them into the tiny apartment and goes to the bedroom, pulling out the bed and placing it in the middle of the room. "Put her there." He motions towards the bed and Sean lowers Neela onto it gently.

Sean looks around. "Give me that cloth." He points with his hand to a white towel hanging on the edge of the small sink. His father grabs it and throws it to him. Sean catches it and instantly swaps his hand with the towel.

Neela bucks and Sean curses out loud. His eyes automatically lock onto the red that suddenly attacks the white. He clenches his teeth and turns to his father. "We need to do something!"

"I have a guy," his father says urgently. "I trust him. He used to work with me on the base."

"Is he a doctor?"

His father hesitates. "Not exactly."

"What the hell does that mean?" Sean snaps.

"He's not a doctor _anymore_," his father answers. "He lost his license."

Sean thinks for a split second before nodding. "How long will it take for him to get here?"

"Five minutes."

"Call him."

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There's a loud banging at the door. Sean looks up from Neela while his father goes to answer. Jason Boswell slides open the door to reveal a gruff looking man with dark eyes. "Paul," his father addresses the man, "She's in here."

Paul goes directly to Neela on the small bed, a black medical bag in his hand. "You're going to have to move," he tells Sean. "I need some room." He pulls out a pen light to examine Neela's wound. He moves the fabric of her shirt and she cries out. He ignores it and keeps prodding, much to the discomfort of Sean who can do nothing but grit his teeth and watch. Neela swallows furiously when her shirt is moved again, but bits back the pain.

"I'm going to have to go in and find the bullet. You," he turns to Sean, "in my car there's a tank, a monitor, a ventilator bag, and a, ah, blanket tied up with chord, okay?"

Sean nods and dashes out the door.

"I can't make any promises, Jason," Paul starts to roll up his sleeves. "She's lost a lot of blood."

"Just do everything you can," the father answers solemnly. "Just everything you can…"

Paul leans over Neela; wiping the sheet of sweat off her forehead with a rag he's withdrawn from his bag. "What's your name?" he asks softly.

Neela blinks up at him, trying to steady her fading vision. "Neela."

"Okay, Neela," Paul smiles gently. "Do you know if you're allergic to any medication?"

She shakes her head. "I don't…think so."

"Good. That's good. I'm going to give you some morphine for the pain then," he pulls out a syringe and a clear bottle with even clearer liquid.

"But I'm not…a fan of…needles," her eyes flick to the syringe in his hand.

Paul gives a sympathetic smile but doesn't say anything. He hold's Neela's forearm delicately and slides the needle under her skin and into a vein. Pushing the slide down, the liquid disappears beneath the skin of her arm.

Paul sets the needle down and flashes light quickly into each pupil. "You're going to be okay, Neela, I just need you to be strong for me, can you do that?"

She's blinking rapidly, like she can't stay awake, but nods.

"Good girl," Paul smiles.

Sean bursts through the door, carrying the equipment Paul's asked for. "How is she?" He asked, striding towards Neela's side.

Paul ignores the question. "Neela, do you know your blood type?"

She swallows and blinks again, her forehead scrunching up. "…O+…think…"

Paul glances to Jason Boswell. "That's your type, right?"

Jason nods and then turns to Sean. "And his."

"That's good, that's real good," Paul rummages around in his bag, "because she's going to need a lot of it." Finally, he pulls out a small butterfly needle and hooks it up the blood bag. "You know how to tap veins, right?"

Jason Boswell nods.

"Alright," he hands Jason the needle and bag and then spreads out his surgical instruments. "Let's get to work."

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Hours later Sean can finally relax. Neela is stable, though how she got that way is still a flash of distorted memories. After all, not many people can dig out bullets and suture up gunshot wounds on a small pullout bed with limited supplies. But Paul did, and Sean is thankful for it. So thankful.

Sean sits and watched Neela sleep, knowing she deserves every ounce of relaxation the world could give her. With the monitor beeping softly in the background, he can shut his eyes and look towards the future. A future that has Takashi doing hard time for murder and attempted murder. One can only hope.

Something covers his hand and his eyes snap open.

Neela looks at him for the first time in hours.

He leans in close, trying to control the beating of his over joyous heart. "How are you feeling?"

She pauses and her brow furrows in thought. Moments later, she says, "Like I got shot in the gut by my ex-boyfriend." It's like listening to country music, her accent. And Sean loves country.

"That about sums it up," Sean nods. He watches her watch him and finally says, "Why did you do it?"

She seems confused by his question. "Why did I do what?"

He sighs, sitting back in his chair, his hand still holding onto hers. "You know what. Why did you step in front?"

"Reflex."

He gives her a look. "That's a nasty reflex to have, Neela. I don't like it."

"You think I would have liked to see _you_ get shot?" She counters, her voice soft but strong.

He understands her words. "You don't know how hard it was….to see you like that…" He looks to the floor, clenching his jaw, before looking up and staring her right in the eyes. "Never again. I never want to go through any of that ever again."

She tilts her head and her eyes soften. "I can imagine, Sean. It would have been just as hard for me."

"Then why not let it be? You, it should have never happened to you. He was after me, not you. It should have been me. Not you."

"He was after _me_," she says firmly. "He told _me_ to get in the car. If you would have just let me calm him down—"

"Calm him down!" Sean bursts out. "Neela, he killed Han for Christ's sake! There was no chance in hell that I was going to let him take you!"

"And look where that attitude got you," she snaps so suddenly that he doesn't think she's realized what she's said. But the fact of the matter is that it's the truth. It was his fault. All his fault.

She sees his guilt almost instantly. "No, Sean. I didn't mean it. Not like that."

He shakes his head. "No. You're right."

She squeezes his hand. "I chose to step in front. It's my fault more so than it is yours. I should be thanking you for taking care of me. Without you…I don't think…" she trails off and it finally hits him. She almost died.

"You don't realize how helpless I felt," he buries his face in his hands. "There was absolutely nothing I could do after he pulled the trigger. Nothing but watch you fall."

She rests a hand on his shoulder. "But you did do something. You saved my life."

He looks up into her eyes. "The whole situation was my fault. You know it's true. If I hadn't been so hell bent on driving and embarrassing Takashi, none of this would have happened."

"Stop doing that!" She snaps and he blinks at her. Where is this anger coming from? "For the last time," she breathes, "this was not your fault."

"But it wa—"

"Sean!"

They sit in silence for a couple seconds, staring into each other's eyes. Sean knows she's not going to budge on the matter, but he isn't either. And on any normal day, she wouldn't have, but her eyes suddenly start to droop. All the emotions, he figures, has taken a toll on what little strength she has.

"Neela," he leans close, setting a hand on her shoulder and grasping one of her hands with one of his. "Neela, you have to keep your eyes open for me, can you do that?"

She blinks at him and nods softly.

He smiles. "You know, use _gaijin _have to stick together. You can't leave me just yet."

She lets out an annoyed sigh, rolling her eyes through her weakness. "I told you I hate that word," she grins gently at him.

He laughs softly and cups the side of her face in one of his hands. "You're going to be fine," he says. "You're going to be fine. A couple of weeks from now you'll be back on your feet and we can go drifting in the mountains together."

"I would like that," she whispers.

Sean looks up slightly at Paul who is sitting at the far kitchen table drinking coffee with Major Boswell. The doctor notices Sean's glance and nods in Neela's direction, smiling. _She'll be fine_ is the silent message. Sean smiles gratefully back and then shifts his attention back to Neela who seems to be relaxing into the semi-comfortable bed.

"And just for the record," he says seriously to her, "I _can_ fix everything."

She matches his tone with wit of her own. "Sure you can."

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**Author's Note**: And that's that. I do not know what possessed me to write this, but I kinda like it. Drop a REVIEW if you did too.


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